Thornton Academy – AP Language 2018-2019

Born and raised in Hanoi, the capital city of Vietnam, I have realized that this city is a combination of Eastern and Western elements in terms of architecture, cuisine, and cultural practices, with Oriental features being the major component.

Hanoi takes pride in its historical and architectural sites. Influenced by popular Chinese religious beliefs such as Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism, temples and pagodas in Hanoi represent the deep-rooted spiritual beliefs of many Vietnamese generations. Meanwhile, many buildings in the city center carry the French style, resulting from the French colonization. Hanoi Opera House, St. Joseph’s Cathedral, Hanoi, and Sofitel Metropole Hotel induce elegance and simply the delicacy of French Colonial architecture. Many skyscrapers and high apartment buildings also lit the city up beautifully in the evening.

Hanoi is also well-known for its delicious and nutritious dishes. Phở noodles soup and rice noodles soup with various toppings are some examples of Vietnamese cuisine, in which the balance between spices and between types of nutrition are well attended to. On the other hand, Hanoians have adopted French components into ordinary cooking recipes; for instance, we use baguette to create our famous “bánh mì,” which is similar to a Subway sandwich, yet composed of a small and short baguette and ingredients widely used in Vietnamese cuisine, such as Vietnamese pork sausage, pickled carrots and pickled, unripe papaya.

Hanoians enjoy a vivid cultural life of mostly Oriental practices and several Western ones. The traditional holidays in Vietnam, such as the Lunar New Year, the Mid-Autumn Festival, and Vietnamese Women’s Day (on 10/20), are embraced by most families, schools, and offices in Hanoi. In addition, Christmas is also secularly celebrated, if not religiously. Many people plan on having a feast, giving presents to their loved ones, especially children, and listening to Christmas carols at Christmas.

I am proud of the beauty and the heritage of my beloved city, Hanoi, and I hope we can share this adoration when you visit Hanoi!

Image source: https://www.tripsavvy.com/hanoi-must-see-sights-1630009

During my sophomore year, I flew to Atlanta to spend Christmas with a family friend. As I headed to the jetport at 4 AM, half asleep and fully aware of the cold, little did I know what a warm vacation awaited.

When I arrived at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, Auntie and I easily recognized each other before she gave me a big hug. (Vietnamese people usually call older people of their parents’ generations “aunts” and “uncles,” even when we are not related by blood.) The first thing she told me in the car was that we were going to a Vietnamese restaurant to have breakfast. I was immediately awakened and enthusiastically replied, “Yes!”

A few days later, we shopped at Walmart for groceries, and they sincerely urged me to pick out any snacks I wanted. Seeing that I was deciding between two kinds of Yoplait yoghurt due to my chronic indecisiveness, Auntie scooped a few cups of those flavors and her own favorites into the trolley. Uncle, her long-time partner, assured me that I was like the daughter they never had, so they would like to spoil me. During my stay, their words and actions never failed to make me feel like home.

Auntie’s nieces and nephews also reminded me of my cousins in Vietnam. We stayed up until 3 A.M. every day playing board games since everyone tried to prevent one another from winning. As the games became more intense, I suddenly recalled the times my cousins and I went all out to win a Monopoly game. Auntie’s nephews and nieces and I also went to the movies and bubble tea places more than three times a week, which reminded me of the happy memories I had with my cousins in Vietnam.

With mild winter temperatures and cordial actions from Auntie and her family, my stay in Georgia has added more loving memories to my precious collection of experiences in the United States.

Image source: http://news.atlanta.net/news/local-spotlight-atlantas-street-art

It was when my family hosted my cousin’s wedding that I learned that having a boyfriend was not my only option. It was 2014, and there were no laws in Alabama — my cousin Char’s home — allowing same-sex marriage. If her and her partner had simply waited a year, they could’ve celebrated at home. They had laid in stasis for a decade, hoping the world would catch up to them — and it refused to. So they raced ahead with felicity.

I had had a steady stream of male crushes up until sixth grade, and the idea of anything different was so foreign to me. Girls like girls like boys do? Boys could be more than friends? Strange.

This was still strange to me when I met Her at the end of that year, and I was drawn to Her shy soul. I wanted to be friends instantly.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be until a year later that I got the chance. Our English class was taking a trip to Boston. Considering we weren’t close friends with anyone else, our socially awkward selves sat together on the bus. After bonding over a bowl of gelato at a sophisticated museum cafe, we began to sit next to each other in the mornings. Oh no, we didn’t talk, just read in close proximity. And it was enough.

At a school dance in eighth grade we bopped side by side. A passing peer called us “baes,” and we rolled with it like one would a rollercoaster. It escalated from there: we proclaimed that we were “married,” slow dancing in mockery of another’s reality. I thought about Her every second, it seemed. I began to worry when our dancing got lethargic, and I found myself staring into Her eyes for the entirety of “Stairway to Heaven.”  We were only friends, right? What is this feeling?

It was love, I realized that spring. I am about as straight as a bar of wi-fi. Hi, I’m Grace, and I like girls.

This was strangely exhilarating when our mutual friend whispered in my ear that she like likes me too, one number before my grand debut at my first dance recital. My red sequined costume swished as I shook with the possibilities. The world became a blur. Eager thumbs penned a less-than-eloquent response as I sat oblivious to the atmosphere of congratulations that follows a dance recital.

This was strangely wonderful when I mouthed the word “girlfriend’ to myself after she replied.

     A once vibrantly hued section of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef appears as if it were coated in a thick layer of white paint. However, the truth behind the animal’s new appearance is more devastating than a simple color change. Soon, the coral will be dead, but even in its last stages of life, the serene beauty of the coral reef remains. The cause of this stark contrast, unfortunately, is much closer to home than society may hope for.

     The white appears during a process known as bleaching, where a coral animal expels the algae that resides within its tissues.  Because the coral relies on the algae for food and energy, it will usually die shortly after a bleaching event. As a result, it loses its color, revealing the white skeleton underneath.

Coral bleaching occurs when water temperature increases, which is why coral is known as one of the first indicators of climate change. Over the past decades, as carbon emissions increased, the number of coral reefs worldwide have been decreasing.

Over the last 40 years, 80% of coral in the Caribbean have been destroyed, as well as 50% in Indonesia and the Pacific. Consequently, many ocean ecosystems that rely on coral reefs have been lost, and humans that rely on reefs to provide food are continuing to be impacted. Fortunately, all hope is not gone for the struggling animal, and for our world as a whole.

     After a coral has been bleached, it is possible for it to become healthy again. If the water temperature drops back to normal quickly after a bleaching event occurs, coral may be able to readjust and recover. As a prime climate change indicator, the extinction of coral reefs would be an ill omen for our planet. However, by moving to reduce our carbon footprint, there is a chance of protecting the remaining coral in our oceans, and taking a step in the right direction in the battle against climate change.

The first dusting of snow, that covers all that it reaches may awe someone who hasn’t had much experience with the unique white fluff, however experienced Mainers can confidently attest that is much more than this fantasyland it appears to be.

Each year as the leaves crumple up into the halves of what they once were, we know that it will soon be the beginning of winter. Although the frigid weather can be gorgeous, it is lots of hard work to keep up with daily maintenance, this includes shoveling. In many towns or communities, you may see the sidewalks cleared, however Portland is an exception to this.

Not only do they not clear the sidewalks for their residents, but instead they expect you to do this task or expect a fine. This is simply unfair. My neighbor next door is living on her own and is nearly 80 years old. Not only that, but she has a pacemaker. Her immobile and weaker physical state leaves her in no position to be shovelling, although neighbors pitch in to help one another, the result is her paying someone to to do the job for her.

Those who rely on the bus or walking to get to their destinations often times are left to the mercy of drivers, as these people are forced to risk their lives by walking on the main streets of Portland. Taxes a surely high enough that we as a city can cover the services of a company to make our sidewalks safe and clear.

At the end of the day it is the town’s job to ensure the safety and protection of its residents. This obstruction in Portland, just proves that they are not completing their job to the fullest. My neighbor should not have to worry about paying someone to shovel her sidewalk. Or fellow residents shouldn’t have to worry about walking down the road. It is time for Portland to make a change and it starts with the snow.